


Sal’shiral Din’anshiral

by Meraad



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-01-04 15:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18346748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: Liriel Lavellan sided with the Mages and as a result, ended up traveling through time.Somewhere things went wrong and now there are two Heralds of Andraste in HavenPreviously titled A Journey of Life and Death (which is the approximate translation of Sal'Shrial Din'anshiral)





	1. The Impossible Herald

Cullen stared down at the woman in the prison cell below the Chantry. She lay unconscious, curled in on herself, elbows bound behind her back with a Templar standing watch, ready to bind her magic the moment she woke, though he hoped it did not come to that. Impossible, the thought hung there in his mind where it had been since she appeared and attacked several of the Inquisition’s forces early the morning before.

The young recruits had been understandably terrified. Despite the matted hair, the gaunt cheeks, and tattered clothing, there was no denying who the woman was. Even without her left hand bearing the mark. “How is this possible?” he asked, voice low, of the woman who came to stand beside him.

“It is a trick,” Leliana said, her hands clasped together at the base of her spine. “A very well orchestrated deception.” Leliana didn’t keep her voice down intentionally. “Once this impostor regains consciousness, I will personally see to it that she talks.” The mental image had Cullen’s stomach twisting. “The real Herald of Andraste will be returning to Haven in a few days time. I would prefer to have this matter taking care of before then.” She turned to leave, but Cullen lingered, staring down at the woman. A deep scar lashed her chin. One that he knew all too well. “Don’t allow yourself to be taken in by this woman. We don’t know what her objective is, but we cannot trust her.”

Cullen was no fool. He knew that. Yet, he found himself crouching down in front of the iron bars, just to get a closer look at her. The woman’s lips were chapped, bloody, and not just from the altercation with the scouts. A bruise took up most of her right cheek, angry and purple. “Liriel,” he whispered and the woman didn’t so much as stir.

“Commander?” the Templar glanced over and Cullen shot him a sharp look.

“Alert me at once when she wakes.” If she wakes, was the dark thought he added.

“Yes, Ser.” The Templar saluted him and Cullen stormed out of the Chantry and through Haven until he reached the gates where Rylen had the recruits running through drills. His head had begun to ache. So many of the men and women who had joined were not soldiers, simply people who were scared and had nowhere else to run to.

“Has she woken?” Rylen asked as Cullen came to stand beside him, and he just shook his head. “Strange isn’t it? I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around it since she showed up. What the purpose of posing as our Herald? It isn’t as if we don’t know exactly where she is. It’s uncanny how much it looks like her.”

Cullen had no desire to speak of the situation. He knew people were curious, they wanted answers, but Cullen had other things to deal with. “The recruits who were attacked, where are they?”

Rylen inclined his head, and Cullen followed his gaze, spotted the small group sparring, though they were putting little effort into it. The youngest of the group was only sixteen, Cullen thought, _s_ _till a child_. The trio never seemed to be far apart, and Cullen thought he’d heard they were from a farm somewhere near Crestwood.

“Break for lunch,” he instructed Rylen then slipped into his tent. The ache in his head was growing worse. Cullen sunk down heavily at his desk and rested his head in his hands. Liriel would return soon, he thought. The young elven mage, who despite all appearances to the contrary, had a spine of veil quartz. She was willing to go toe to toe with him over mage and Templar issues, and wouldn’t back down from anything once her mind was made up. More than once Josephine, Cassandra and Leliana had left the two shouting at each other in the war room.

Though no matter how much they shouted, no matter how angry either one got, Liriel would still track him down when she thought he’d been alone for too long, or spent too much time training and needed a break. Maker, could she shout. His mouth twisted up into a smile that immediately fell when he imagined her anger about the woman currently locked up in a cell beneath the Chantry. He understood why Leliana wanted the matter taken care of before Liriel’s return.

Cullen sat there for a time, realized he must have dozed off when he heard a voice outside his tent. “Commander, she’s awake.” Pushing away from the desk he stood and threw back the canvas flap, thanked the scout and headed back to the Chantry.

 

All Liriel wanted was water. It didn’t have to be cold. It didn’t even half to be clean. She just wanted water, so much so that when she’d woken in the cell she’d been tempted to lick the damp floor. Instead, the moment her eyes had cracked open, she’d felt a wall come down around her, painful and choking, her connection to the Fade gone.

It was disorienting. Voices were distant and she wanted to let the black take her away again. But no, then there would be dreams and the demons and the memories. Liriel gagged, heaved and turned her head, but there was nothing in her belly to throw up, so she lay there, coughing and trying to breathe until rough hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the cell.

A small blessing was that they had lifted her enough that her knees didn’t drag on the hard stones, but she almost wished they had, it would have been less distance to fall when she was shoved forward. Liriel tried to throw her hand out, to brace herself against the fall, but her arms she realized were bound at the elbows behind her back. A strange sound escaped her lips, a mockery of a laugh. Of course, they couldn’t bind her hands, she only had the one now.

Recognizing the boots that appeared in her line of vision she twisted, looked up, found the Nightingale staring down at her with an unreadable expression. Leliana was terrifying on a good day. Right then, well, Liriel thought if she could have peed her pants, she would have. Another set of footsteps, heavier. Another woman stepped into her view, but the footsteps didn’t match. Cassandra stood over her now too, arms over her chest, fury written across her features.

Two dark shadows loomed over her and a flash of realization struck Liriel. They were going to kill her. After everything she’d been through. After all she’d survived. They were going to kill her. She opened her mouth, ready to beg, but all that escaped her lips was a croaking sound. The heavy footsteps again, closer. “Is _this_ necessary?”

Twisting her head, because she couldn’t see him, she caught a glimpse of dark brown pants. The red mantle and dark fur. Cullen stood, hands on his hips and Liriel swore her heart stopped. The lantern glowed near his head, glinting off the golden strands of hair and she couldn’t breathe. Alive and breathing and whole and healthy.

His gaze shifted, met hers. His jaw was a hard line and she could practically feel the anger that radiated him like pins and needles all over her skin. Twisting away and curling in on herself as much as she could, Liriel realized that she’d made a grave error. “ _Time magic is dangerous,”_ Dorian had told her, in their months on the run after Alexius plunged them into the future. “ _There is no guarantee this will work,”_ he’d insisted. _“But we have to try,”_ she told him.

Dragged onto her knees, Leliana held a fistful of her hair, angling her head back painfully. “What is your purpose?” she asked. “Why come here, attempting to look like the Herald of Andraste?” This time she really couldn’t draw in a breath, the pressure against her throat, the angle of her head. She stared wide-eyed up into Leliana’s unforgiving gaze. “Answer me,” she bit out, the hand in her hair tightening, it jerked and Liriel caught a glint of a blade.

Liriel barely managed to get a sound out as she jerked, trying to squirm away. She wanted to tell them everything. “You aren’t going to get anything out of her like that,” Cullen’s voice again and Liriel closed her eyes, would have cried if she had any tears left in her body. In one smooth movement, Leliana’s hands were gone, and an arm slid around her back, then something cold and smooth was pressed against her lips. “Drink.”

Cold and wet, Liriel choked and sputtered as the water slid over her tongue. Then the flask was gone and she cried out, desperate to have it back. “Slow,” Cullen’s voice was soft, gentle, stark contrast to the sound of Leliana and Cassandra a few feet away. Cold metal against her lower lip, then a slow trickle of water against her lips, and it felt like shards of ice down her throat, but Liriel tried so hard not to make a sound, afraid he’d pull it away again. But when she choked again, Cullen withdrew it and she was so distraught that she tried to twist away from him.

She was so thirsty. A sob escaped her, and the arm around her back tightened, holding her. She couldn’t decipher the voices now. Indistinct chatter of the people who were going to torture her for answers they wouldn’t truly want. Glass against her lower lip, the bitter scent hit her nose seconds before the tonic slipped past her lips. There was a moment of searing pain, followed by the soothing relief as the healing tonic repaired some of the damage in her throat.

Then the water was there again, and this time she didn’t choke. Liriel wanted to gulp it down, but Cullen kept the flow at barely a trickle. Even then, far too soon, her belly felt full and she turned her head away. “No-” it was a rasp of sound. “No more.”

A few seconds later she felt herself be lifted up and deposited in a hard wooden chair, the three of them standing in front of her, waiting. Liriel shivered, realizing she’d been leaning into Cullen’s body for so long she’d almost felt warm again.

“Now,” Leliana said, stepping forward, not wasting even a moment. “Tell us who you are and what you think you’re doing here?”

Liriel shifted forward on the chair, the back of it digging in to her arms painfully. “I’m Liriel Lavellan,” her tongue still felt heavy and the words were rough and quiet. But they rang out in the silence of the prison.

“I beg to differ,” a voice said from behind the trio.

“Herald.”

“My lady.”

“You’re back early.”

Liriel blinked and tears welled up in her eyes as she watched herself step forward. A few years younger. Far less damaged and most definitely still naive of the true horrors of the world.

“We made good travel time,” she said about to step closer, but Cullen reached out, caught her arm, preventing her from getting too close. “She looks like me.” Then she turned, arms over her chest and glared at Leliana, Cassandra and Cullen. “Someone tell me what is going on, now.” She didn’t raise her voice, though she would if she had to.

“This woman attacked several of our recruits outside of Haven.”

Liriel ducked her head. She hadn’t meant to. She was so afraid and hadn’t known where she’d ended up. Seeing swords, Liriel lashed out.

Her younger self turned, crouched down in front of her and she had no idea how this was possible. It shouldn’t be possible. Alexius had sent her forward in time, only a few months, but regardless, this other version of herself couldn’t possibly be there. “How did you get back?” Liriel found herself whispering.

The woman in front of her canted her head, her brow furrowing. “Dorian,” she replied. “How do you know about that?” her tone was harsh.

“Pocket. Right side.”

“Herald, don’t-” But she was already reaching forward, her hand carefully reaching in. When she withdrew it, the small amulet lay in her palm. No longer glowing with magic.

“How long were you…?”

“Years,” Liriel leaned forward, her head sagging. She was so exhausted, she couldn’t keep herself upright any longer. Gentle hands touched her, to the protest of the trio.

“What happened to her arm? Oh, Elgar’nan! Get those restraints off her, now!” Now she was shouting, demanding answers and if Liriel had had the energy, she might have laughed. Instead, she felt the blackness creeping in and let it take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always greatly appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Dhrua

Liriel stared down at the woman who so closely resembled herself that it was frightening. She knew that Leliana, Cassandra and Cullen were all right to be suspicious, but this woman had carried the little amulet that had sent her forward in time and then back to where she belonged. 

Years, she’d said and Liriel shivered at the thought. She had only spent a few hours in that horrible future and Dorian had been at her side the entire time. Reluctant to leave the woman’s side, until she got answers, Liriel insisted that she be brought to her small cabin, after much protesting, she won and Cullen carried her up the stairs and through the Chantry. It was late enough that not many people were out and about, but with the way everyone in Haven gossiped, she imagined they all knew about the feral woman who looked like her. 

Once Cullen laid her out on the bed, he turned, his arms over his chest and looked at her, waiting. Josephine joined them and with the door shut, Liriel recounted all the details of what had happened in Redcliffe. The time-travel, the future where everything was wrong and everyone was dead. 

Cullen muttered something distasteful about magic and Liriel shot him a look. Magic was a contention point between them, and she understood his viewpoints, especially after he’d briefly told her about his time in Kinloch Hold, but she was determined to make him see past them. Which usually resulted in much shouting. But not once had she ever been afraid of him. No matter how much they yelled at each other, he didn’t scare her. 

They all agreed that ultimately they had to stop Empress Celene from being killed. “I’ll see what I can do to get us an invitation to the Winter Palace,” Josephine said, scribbling down notes on her parchment before she slipped out of the small cabin. Cassandra followed a moment later. 

“I do not believe this is a wise decision, my lady,” Leliana said, eyeing the still unconscious woman. 

“Duly noted,” Liriel said. She remembered waking up in the cold cell months ago after the explosion of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Remembered Leliana and Cassandra’s anger. But they hadn’t resorted to torture as it had appeared they planned to do with this woman. Maybe they would have if she hadn’t agreed to willingly help. 

“You don’t know what she came here for.” 

“I am fairly certain she came here because she had nowhere else to go. I believe her. I believe that this woman is me.” Leliana’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have to believe that, but I do expect you to never lay a hand on her again, unless she attacks someone unprovoked.” Leliana inclined her head sharply, then slipped out the door, Cullen moved to follow. “Wait,” she caught his arm, much as he had done with her earlier. “Would you fetch Solas? I know it’s late, but I’d like him to have a look at her.” 

“Of course,” he said, and she let her hand slid down his arm, she held his hand for a moment, squeezed and then he was gone and she was alone with herself. 

A quiet laugh escaped her, then she sighed, taking in the woman’s injuries. After pouring the water she’d put onto boil into the wash basin, Liriel carefully removed the woman’s boots. Her clothes were in tatters, torn and bloodied. Completely filthy. She’d want a bath, Liriel thought absently, but it would have to wait. Stripping off the outer layers of clothing, she decided to wait until Solas looked over her, then she would strip her the rest of the way, clean her up as best she could and wrangle her into one of her own shifts to sleep in. 

A soft knock on the door and she crossed the room, opened it and smiled at Solas before stepping back to let him in. “I’m sorry to call on you so late. But I… wanted you to look at her.” 

His brows raised. “Of course,” he inclined his head and then he stared, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the woman asleep on the bed. His eyes flicked to Liriel, and back again. “This is… impossible.” 

“Dorian did say time magic was dangerous,” Liriel murmured, dipping her fingers into the water to check if it had cooled down enough. “Can you check her over? Make sure that everything is okay?” 

Solas sat on the edge of the bed and Liriel watched the magic in his hands come to life as he hovered them over her body. “How long has she been unconscious?” 

“About an hour now? Before that, I think since yesterday. I had a brief conversation with her before she passed out.” Solas lifted her left arm, inspected the stub that ended just below her elbow. He glanced at to Liriel again, his eyes lingering on her left hand. “She said that she spent years in the future and I don’t believe she had Dorian to help her.” 

“I would very much like to speak to her when she wakes,” Solas said and Liriel gave a short nod. 

“I imagined you would. Is she… okay?” It was a tentative question and it made her feel silly. But Solas knew so much more than she did, his magic so focused and well-honed. 

Solas rested his hands on either side of the woman’s head, brushed back the tangled mat of hair and frowned. Liriel did too. Most of her right ear was missing. Absently, Liriel reached up and touched her own ear, felt the line of piercings and winced at the imagined pain. “I believe she is exhausted. She’ll need food and rest. Aside from a few scratches and bruises, she doesn’t appear to have any fresh injuries.” Getting to his feet, he looked at Liriel. “I’ll see that you have everything you need to help her. But, da’len, I would be wary of trusting this woman. While she does have your face, if she spent years in that future you were sent to, she is not you any longer.” 

Liriel gave a little nod of her head. “Of course, Hahren.” Solas reached up and touched her cheek and she leaned into it for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you,” she told him and then he was gone. When there was a knock a few minutes later she opened it, expecting one of the scouts or runners, but instead, she was greeted by Cullen, a basket in one arm, a plated balanced in his other hand. 

“I ran into Solas on my way back, he asked me to bring you this as well.” 

“Ah, thank you,” Liriel let him in, closed the door and then took his burden. “What’s that?” she asked, jerking her chin at the plate. 

“I thought you both might be hungry.” His gaze slid to the woman on the bed, as he set the plate on her desk, lingered there. “It is strange,” Cullen murmured. “Seeing you like that.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I know you won’t listen to me, but I do agree in part with Leliana. You can’t know for certain that she is truly who she says she is.” 

Liriel set the basket down on the foot of the bed and stood beside Cullen. “Look at her, Cullen,” she said, though he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “That is me. A version of me who has been to the void and back and somehow, she’s still fighting.” Liriel pursed her lips together. “How are the recruits she attacked?” 

“A little shaken, but fine,” Cullen said. He’d see to it personally. “Now, tell me how you are, after all of this magical time travel.” 

Liriel waved a hand dismissively. “It was terrifying,” she said, keeping her tone light in a poor attempt at hiding how scared she’d actually been. “So much death. We have to stop Corypheus.” 

“We will,” then he amended with the smallest curve of his lips. “You will.” Cullen rested his hands on her arms, squeezed gently and after a moment, Liriel stepped forward and slipped her arms around his waist, letting her cheek rest against his breastplate. “Tell me,” he said softly, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head while the other slid around her shoulders, holding her close. 

“It was horrible,” she whispered, finally allowing herself to admit it. “The red lyrium, there was so much of it, it was everywhere. Fiona, she was there and barely alive. It was growing out of her, had rooted her to the floor. Hardly anything was left of her. Blackwall and Solas… I watched them die, Cullen. They died protecting Dorian and I,” her voice hitched and Cullen’s arms tightened around her. “I won’t allow that to happen again. I won’t let anyone else die for me.” 

Cullen made a quiet shushing sound and Liriel held onto him tighter. “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” he murmured, but he knew that any number of people would gladly give their life for Liriel’s. She was the key. The mark on her hand was their greatest hope of saving Thedas. Finally breaking apart, Cullen once again frowned down at the woman in the bed. “Where will you sleep?” 

“I’ve got my bedroll, I’ll just sleep on the floor,” she told him with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “It won’t be the worst place I slept. Besides, when I was with my clan I mostly slept in a hammock,” she said a slightly wistful tone to her voice. 

“Well,” Cullen reached out, brushed his knuckles against the scar on her jaw. “Maybe we should requisition you a new hammock.” 

Liriel’s eyes lit up and she smiled at him. “Please? I miss it… them.” She found her own gaze wandering back to the woman still asleep on the bed. 

“Have you written to them?” 

“Yes, they worry about me and well, I worry about them too.” Letting out a quiet sigh she moved to the bed and began going through the contents of the basket Solas had sent. “Thank you, Cullen.” 

“Sleep well, Liriel.” 

“You too.” Then he was gone and she was alone again with herself. Liriel made quick work of stripping the unconscious woman out of the rest of her clothes, she used a damp rag to wipe her clean of as much of the dirt and blood that she could. Liriel applied a salve to the cuts and scrapes and bruises she found before slipping one of her shifts over her head and draping one of the soft wool blankets over her. She was frail, Liriel thought. All but skin and bone. A stiff wind would probably knock her over.

But she survived, Liriel told herself. If this was all true, this woman survived years in the worst place imaginable.  
  


_“Dhrua,” it was a gentle whisper against her ear. Lids lifting, she blinked and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the near total darkness. The coarse hair of his beard scraped her temple, her cheek. She turned her head and rubbed her lips over it, then found his mouth. The kiss was a hot, wet slide of tongues. A hand on her breast, squeezing through thick layers of clothing. The two had long since mastered the technique of making love silently in these dark and desperate moments._

_His hand between her thighs, his mouth on hers, he stroked her expertly to the edge of bliss before she hooked one leg over his hip and he slid home. Liriel clung to him, her nails sharp bites through the thin cotton shirt he wore beneath the simple leather coat. “Vhenan,” she breathed into his mouth. He felt the clench of her inner walls, withdrew, and with practiced ease, his fingers coaxed her to completion as her hand left his back, slid between them until he spilled low on her belly._

_He cleaned them both quickly and efficiently, righting their clothes before he allowed her to tug him down over her again. Where he rested his cheek against her breastbone, his ear pressed to her heart. “I am sorry, Dhrua, my love.”_

_Shushing him gently, she stroked her fingers through the soft golden curls that had grown much longer and lost their shine. “Sleep, ma vhenan. I am here.”_   

She woke with a sharp inhale. No warm body beside her. She was alone. Blinking rapidly, she realized she was not in the cell beneath the Chantry. The cabin, her cabin, in Haven. A dream? Could it have all been a dream? Trying to flex the fingers of her left hand she gasped and a strangled sob escaped her lips. 

“Liriel?” a hand on her shoulder, then her own face over hers. The memories rushed back in a tidal wave of horror. Twisting over the edge of the bed, a bucket appeared just as she began to wretch. Bile burned her throat, her body spasmed painfully and she thought she might throw up her organs since there was nothing else left inside her to purge. 

Once the heaving stopped, she tried to breathe and rested her cheek against the thin mattress, the rough fabric cool against her fevered skin. “Dhrua,” she said, though the word came out hoarse and nearly unintelligible. 

“What?” Liriel looked up from the lantern she was lighting, to fill the room with a soft glow. 

“Dhrua,” she repeated, her voice moderately clearer. “That is…” she closed her eyes. “Call me Dhrua.”

“Dhrua,” Liriel repeated her brow knitting. “Who called you by that name?”

She turned her face away because it caused a deeper pain to spread through her, out from her heart. Her eyes burned. “Doesn’t matter. Dead.” After a moment, she heard Liriel moving around, there was a gentle clank of glass bottles.

“You need to drink this,” Liriel said and Dhrua blinked up at her. “Cullen told me he gave you part of a healing tonic already, but it wasn’t enough. This should help, but what you need most are food and rest.”

It took great effort to sit up, and drag herself back enough to lean against the headboard. Once she did, Dhrua took the vial in shaky fingers and pressed it to her lips. It burned going down, but again, after several long beats, she felt the soothing sensation of the healing herbs. How long had it been since she’d had a proper tonic?

“You and I, we need to talk,” Liriel told her, sitting down on the chair next to the desk. “But I should let you rest first.”

Dhrua stared down at the now empty vial and she didn’t want to wait. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been granted a reprieve from the prison cell and torture. “Water?”

“Oh, of course.” Liriel jumped up, grabbed the flagon out of a basket that sat at the foot of the bed and held it out to her.

“I’ll tell you everything,” Dhrua murmured, staring down at her fingers as they curled around the neck of the container of water.

“Wait, I don’t want you to have to repeat this over and over. Let me go get the others.” Then Liriel was gone and Dhrua closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but knew it couldn’t have been long when she heard the door open and Cullen stood there. Hair disheveled, a crease on his face from his pillow. _So young_ , she thought and felt her throat close up at the horrible memories of the last time she’d seen him.

_“Run, Dhrua!” Cullen shouted through the blood in his mouth. A distraction. He’d used himself as a distraction so she could escape and she would never forgive him for it._

_“Cullen!” she screamed. A handful of red Templars broke away, turned and headed for her. She had to go. She had to run. But she couldn’t just leave him to – The behemoth lashed out. Long lyrium claws plunging into Cullen’s chest. It felt as if all the air left her lungs. The Templars grew closer and there was nothing she could do now. Dhrua ran._


	3. Explanations and Doubts

“You’re awake,” Cullen said, dumbly as he stared at the woman in the bed. Liriel had come, woken him, and told him as much before saying she was going to get the others.

Dhrua looked down at her hand, staring hard at her fingers. Dirt and blood were caked under the nails and her knuckles. It looked like someone had tried to clean them. The awkward silence stretched out painfully. Cullen just standing there, staring at her, but trying to not make it obvious.

When the door finally opened again, Dhrua looked up but relief was not what she felt as they began to file in. Leliana. Cassandra. Dorian and then finally Solas and Liriel who stepped around them all to stand beside Cullen. Of course, they would all be there, she realized. Then she wished she had the strength to stand, rather than lying prone in a bed surrounded by people who likely would not trust her, no matter what she said.

Tossing back the blankets, she realized she only wore a thin shift and promptly yanked them back over her up to her waist before twisting on the bed so that at least she sat facing them.

“Incredible,” Dorian said, holding the amulet. “If what you claim is true, and you are Liriel.” All of their gazes were scrutinizing. Faces of people she had once looked up to, now stared at her with distrust.

“Call me Dhrua,” she said, her voice still hoarse. It had been months since she’d talked so much. “It will be less confusing that way.”

Leliana made a quiet sound, her displeasure a nearly tangible thing, while Solas lifted a brow.

“You already know that I,” she gestured between herself and Liriel, “went to Redcliffe. Alexius sent us forward in time,” she met Dorian’s gaze and she wished she’d had the chance to know him. The few very long days she had spent with him had shown her what an intelligent man he was. He would have been a good ally to have. “A few months time had passed and somehow, we ended up outside the castle.”

“A few months?” Dorian asked.

“We went forward two years,” Liriel chimed in and Dhrua’s brows drew together.

“Further proof that she is lying,” this came from Leliana, her eyes sparking as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her back against the wall.

It was pointless, Dhrua was quickly realizing. There was nothing she could say that would convince them.

“Please, continue,” his voice made her heart kick hard in her chest and she glanced at Cullen before quickly looking away.

“We,” she coughed quietly, cleared her throat. “Dorian and I, couldn’t get back into the castle, so we agreed to return to Haven, so we could gather the Inquisition’s forces and take Redcliffe by force.” Dhrua ducked her head, looked at her hand. “But it was too late. The Inquisition’s forces were already marching Redcliffe. Just a few days away when we found them. Locked in battle with Red Templars and mages. It was a slaughter. Dorian and I joined in, tried to help. But we were no match for the combined efforts. Every one of the Inquisition’s soldiers was killed. Dorian fell too.”

“Then how did you manage this?” Dorian asked, holding up the amulet.

Dhrua looked at him, eyes burning but she blinked quickly, banishing them. “He had told me about it while we were traveling. Told me everything he knew, just for something to talk about. As for how I got it, that came later.” Her throat ached and she swallowed, tried to clear it. She caught movement from the corner of her eye. Cullen’s hand on Liriel’s bare arm. Ducking his head to whisper in her ear. Strands of her dark hair caught on the stubble of his jaw. They shared a small private smile that had Dhrua tearing her gaze away quickly.

“Haven was destroyed,” Dhrua continued, despite the throbbing pain in her throat. “Everyone was dead. Everyone. Men, women and even children. The entire village was razed to the ground.” A mug appeared in front of her and Dhrua blinked up at Liriel and gratefully took the mug, felt the heat seep into her fingers. Sipping, she nearly sighed in relief as it coated her throat. “We had no idea what to do, so we went into hiding.”

“We?” Cassandra spoke for the first time and Dhrua felt the blood drain from her face.

She hadn’t meant to say that. It had slipped. “One person survived the battle. Badly injured, he saved me and it nearly killed him.”

Cullen shifted, his shoulder brushing Liriel’s. “Who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the words were painful to say. Because it had mattered to her. But these people, they weren’t the ones she’d known. “He’s dead now. We ran and we hid. We tried to find help where we could, but as the weeks wore on, fewer people were willing to help the Forsaken Herald.” Dhrua lifted her left arm, showing off the stump before rubbing it against the soft blanket pooling around her waist. “A glowing mark makes it hard to remain anonymous.”

“Did you… it wasn’t an accident?” Liriel asked, her right hand rubbing against her left forearm as if imagining all the possibilities of what had happened.

“No. I knew to have a chance of surviving I couldn’t have the mark. We… my companion and I, oh, we argued.” It hadn’t been the arguments they used to have. These ones had been brutal because the anger had been fed by fear. “I won.” After mangling her hand so badly there was no other choice.

“ _I’ll never forgive you for this,” he told her angrily, his fist curling around the hilt of his blade as she stretched her arm out over the wood stump._

“Years passed,” she continued, shoving away the memory. “It was chaos and there was nothing we could do. The Elder One… there was so much destruction. Finally, we returned to Redcliffe where Alexius was still holed up. Getting in, killing him and getting the amulet was easy.” her throat locked up painfully. “We argued,” she murmured, tears blurring her vision. “He wanted me to use the amulet alone, to make it easier. We already didn’t know if I’d even be able to do it. I refused. Said I wouldn’t leave him behind, no matter what.” Every inflection drained from her voice.

“On our way out of Redcliffe, we ended up surrounded by Red Templars. Well. He won the argument. I left him to die and I ran.”

“ _Love, you have to do this.”_

“ _I will not leave you.”_

“ _There is no place for me there,” his mouth gentle against her ear._

“ _Your place is beside me,” she hissed at him, but hadn’t denied the touch, had gone willingly into his arms, no matter how mad she was._

“It took several months to get the amulet to work. But, even then, I apparently messed up somewhere.”

“Convenient,” Leliana pushed away from the wall but didn’t cross the distance. “All these little details. But as you bear no mark and have given us no useful information, what purpose do you have here?”

She was right, Dhrua thought. If nothing she told them helped and the Herald stood whole and healthy beside Cullen, then there was no reason for her to be there in Haven. “You’re right. But unless Dorian can send me back to where I belong, I have nowhere else to go.”

Liriel stepped into the center of the small cabin, between herself and the group that would never accept her. “We have never turned someone away from Haven and the Inquisition. We aren’t going to start now.”’

“Unless that person happens to be an agent sent by our enemies. This woman has just enough facts that it could seem possible. While there is nothing to prove she is telling the truth.”

Liriel turned, gestured to Dhrua. “Look at her!” she exclaimed. “Eyes, Vallaslin, the scar on her chin!”

“All things that, given this Elder One's power and reach, could have easily been orchestrated. A woman with a similar face shape, and eye color. Everything else could be done to make her look like you.”

Curling her hands into fists, Liriel stared at them. “Get out. All of you. I’m tired and Dhrua needs rest.” When they didn’t all immediately move to leave, she made a quiet sound. “Out!” she shouted and finally, they filed out. Cullen lingering the longest.

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here with her,” he kept his voice low, but still, Dhrua heard him. Her chest felt tight. Setting aside the mug, she tried to ignore their quiet argument as she turned, stretched out on the bed, as close to the wall as she could, her back facing the room. She would leave. There was no point in her being there. Leliana was right, she had no purpose. But first, she needed to rest, or she wouldn’t make it far. And her bag, her heart skipped a beat. The little leather satchel that carried her only possessions. She needed that back before she left.

 

Liriel glanced over at the bed when she heard the rustling of fabric, then tugged on Cullen’s sleeve and drew him outside. “I’ll be fine,” she told him.

“You cannot know for certain she is who she says she is. Leliana makes a good point.”

“Not you too,” Liriel huffed out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest to ward off the cold.

Frowning, Cullen reached out, rubbed his hands up and down her bare arms when she shivered. “The resemblance is uncanny. But all the things she’s said… they arrived just before you, so Alexius could have planned this. Not expecting you to survive, or to be able to get back so quickly.”

“Does the fact that _I_ believe her count for anything?” She shifted closer, the warmth of his body near enough to a fire that she wanted to press against him as a cold breeze blew through her. “Do you know what Dhrua means?” His brows drew together. “It’s an elven word. Have faith. Believe. Hope. Whoever she was with, that is what they called her. That is what she was to them.”

Lips pursing together, Cullen slid an arm around her shoulders, holding her closer. “That is another thing. This person she was with, why won’t she say who it was? A soldier from the Inquisition?”

“Cullen,” Liriel angled her head back to look up at him. “She said that it was years for her, in that horrible future. I was only there for hours. I couldn’t imagine… and whoever it was that she was traveling with, they were the only person she had. Whoever it was, she loved them. But just because they loved in that future, doesn’t mean that they would even give her a passing glance here and now.”

He made a quiet sound. “I still don’t trust her.”

“I’ll be fine, Commander. Now, it’s late, go, get some sleep before you drag all the recruits out for your morning drills.”

“We can find her another place to stay while we figure this out,” he said, looking at the door.

“Tomorrow, Cullen. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Everything will be fine, I promise.” Finally, reluctantly, he left and Liriel slipped back into the cabin. Dhrua lay still, her breathing slow and even, all but pressed into the wall and her heart wept for her. The others didn’t believe, didn’t trust her. But Liriel knew it was all true. Dousing the light, Liriel sat on her bedroll, tugged off her boots and stretched out on her back.

“I had a small leather bag when I… got here. I want it back,” Dhrua’s voice was muffled, but Liriel heard it.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll see that it is returned to you first thing tomorrow. You don’t need to leave. I’ll convince Leliana and the others that you aren’t a threat. You’ll stay here. We’re family, after all.”


	4. Memories and Decisions Made

_Anger did not begin to describe how Liriel felt at that moment. “You stupid idiot man,” she shouted, her voice contained only by the fact that the enemy was still out there. Her hand slipped in the blood that seeped from the wound at his side. The blow had been meant for her. Cullen had seen it coming, grabbed her and pulled her out of the way, saving her life. But now, now he may die. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she stitched the gash closed using needle and thread from her pack._

“ _Liri-” his voice was hoarse with pain, he drew his hand away from his face, where he was holding a cloth, already soaked through with blood to the wound that split across his face._

“ _Keep pressure on it!” she snarled, grabbing his wrist, she directed his hand back to his cheek and she wasn’t sure if he didn’t fight her because he was actually listening to her, or because he didn’t have the strength. “I can’t do this alone,” her voice cracked._

_When she and Dorian had found the Inquisition’s forces locked in battle with Red Templar and Mage alike, it was already apparent that there was no winning. Yet, she and Dorian had thrown themselves into the fray. Liriel hadn’t seen Dorian go down but had seen his body as she’d run from one end of the battleground to the other upon seeing Cullen, still standing, though barely. They were all dead and the fact that she and Cullen had survived was a miracle._

_When he’d pulled her out of the way, then toppled over her as the ax had come down, she’d struck out with her magic as hard as she could. Knocked back the Templar enough to lessen the injury. It would have been a killing blow. Then in the few seconds reprieve, despite the pain she knew Cullen must be feeling, she’d dragged him through the tree line and Liriel had never been so happy to see a steep ravine that plunged into a fast moving river below. Another miracle they’d survived the fall._

_They wouldn’t survive the night. It was cold, they were soaking wet and Cullen was going to bleed to death if she didn’t close up this wound. Her fingers were numb and the stitches weren’t neat. But it was enough to stop the rush of blood. Moving up to his face, she gently tugged down his hand. One eye met her gaze. The other- her breath caught. The gash crossed from the center of his forehead, down, over his right eye, his cheek, to his jaw. Deep._

_A quiet sob escaped her lips and pressed her hand to her face, uncaring of the blood she smeared on her skin. “Cullen.”_

“ _S’okay,” he said, his voice muffled, a little slurred. His hand caught hers, squeezed gently. “It’ll be okay.”_

“ _Okay,” she whispered, drew in a deep breath and steadied herself before she set to work on closing the wound. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Everything… everything is ruined. How long has it been since we went into Redcliffe castle?” He held up a hand, two fingers, not speaking now as she worked along his cheek. “Two weeks?” But no, they couldn’t have mobilized that quickly. “Months?”_

_His hand dropped to rest against her leg. “Months,” she repeated. “Alexius sent us forward in time,” she explained quietly, hoping to distract him from what must be incredibly painful. “One second we were standing there in the main hall, the next… Dorian and I were outside the castle, we tried to sneak back in. Blackwall, Solas, our soldiers are still in there. But were attacked, so we fled, our plan to return to Haven and gather the troops.” Her jaw trembled. “What are we supposed to do now?” He didn’t respond, and Liriel would have thought him unconscious, if not for the gentle rubbing of his thumb against her thigh. “Return to Haven?” He squeezed._

“ _Okay,” she murmured, then shifted away, dampening a scrap of bandage in the cold water rushing just a few feet away, she did her best to wipe away the blood, without hurting him further. “We’ll return to Haven. But you have to hold on, Cullen. Please.” He squeezed again and she looked around. She wanted to bandage the wound, but everything was wet, she was afraid it would do more harm. What they needed was a fire. But she was afraid to try and start one, what if the Red Templars found them? Digging in her pack, she found the last of her healing tonic. One little vial left._

“ _Come on,” she murmured, pulling out the cork. Liriel leaned down, resting her elbow on the rocks beneath them, her hand sliding to cup the back of Cullen’s head. “Drink,” she murmured, helping to angle his head up enough that she could trickle the tonic past his lips._

“ _No,” he rasped, turning his face away. “You need that,” Cullen said._

“ _No, I need you to drink it. I’m fine, Cullen, please, you’re hurt so badly. Drink it.” He gave a short shake of his head, kept his lips pressed together tightly. “Cullen,” Liriel snapped. “If you die, I will never forgive you. I’m fine. I swear. Please, please,” she begged quietly, lowering her head until her forehead pressed against his brow, careful of his injury. “Please.” She wept quiet tears because she was so afraid._

Soft sounds had Dhrua’s eyes snapping open. It took several heartbeats to drag herself out of the horrible memory and into the present to remember where she was. Haven. Light seeped in through the cracks of the shutters, and she thought it might be midday. Still in the bed in her old cabin, but Dhrua imagined it was only a matter of time before Leliana dragged her back down into the prison beneath the Chantry.

 _Why does the Chantry need a prison?_ It was a fleeting thought as she heard move shuffling sounds in the cabin. A quiet thump of something being set down. Fabric rustling. Muttering, then soft footsteps before she heard the door open and snick shut again. Waiting, she all but held her breath. The seconds ticked by and when there was no further noise, Dhrua slowly turned her head, scanned the room and finding it empty, she let her eyes wander again. Her small leather pack sat on the wooden nightstand beside a tray of food. A tankard of water and a healing tonic.

Pushing herself up so that she could swing her legs over the edge of the bed, Dhrua reached for the bag, quickly emptying the contents onto the bed beside her to make sure everything was still there. It wasn’t much. A scrap of fabric, an empty vial, a ball of string, and a handful of little pebbles. Most importantly though, a dagger, small with a pretty decorative handle. She reached out, curled her fingers around the cold metal sheath. Her heart skipped a beat and her other hand went to her mouth, stifling the sob that wanted to escape.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she quickly tucked everything back into the bag, then looked over the plate of food. Some dried fruit, soft bread, and cheese. The fruit she tucked into her bag, realized that if she planned to survive more than just a few days, she’d need to steal. The idea didn’t sit well with her, but Dhrua knew she couldn’t stay there at Haven. She didn’t belong.

Eyeing the tonic she tried to decide if she’d be better of drinking it now or waiting. Then she remembered the rattle of bottles in the basket Liriel had dug through the night before, that still sat at the foot of the bed. Nibbling on the cheese, she went through it. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she pulled out a few. A couple of missing tonics were nothing to them. Adan could easily make more. Taking some of the cloth bandages she wrapped them in it, to minimize the rattling sound and slipped them into her bag with the healing tonic.

Dhrua drank the water, forced herself to drink more, even with her stomach protested. The water skein still sat on the table, half empty. But at least she’d have something to carry the water in. She could find streams to refill it in. Rest, she thought. Today she would rest and then Dhrua would leave, though she had no idea where she would go, it was better than Leliana throwing her back in the dungeon.

 

The sun was just beginning to set as Liriel found Cullen, sitting on the base of the trebuchet, running a whetstone over the edge of his sword. Taking the short set of stairs she ducked under the rope and around the massive wooden post before coming to stand beside him. “Here,” she said, handing him a mug. Cullen smiled his thanks and she sat down beside him, her own mug in hand.

“I have procured a tent for her,” he said, after taking a long drink from the mug. He set it aside, returned to his task and then peered at Liriel when she didn’t reply.

She held the mug between her palms, dangling between her knees. “She’s pretended to be asleep every time I’ve gone into the cabin today.” Cullen made a quiet sound, one full of annoyance and Liriel turned her face to his. “How would you feel if you were trying to get back to someplace you knew, and you ended up in the wrong place?”

“It is impossible,” he said with a quiet sigh. “Liriel, I know that you want to believe-”

“She’s going to leave,” she cut him off with a shake of her head. “I don’t know when, but… I made Leliana return her belongings and a few of the tonics and bandages were missing from the things that Solas had sent the other night.”

“While I don’t condone the theft, it’s for the best, Liriel. Whoever she is… if she isn’t a spy, there is something wrong with her.”

Liriel didn’t understand why they were so adamantly against the idea that this woman was her. After everything they had all seen and been through, why was it so easy to discount the woman who shared Liriel’s face? Nothing she could say would sway anyone to her side. Dhrua would flee the first chance she had, and Liriel would make sure that it was as easy as possible for her, that she had all the possible supplies she could need. “I have been trying to imagine what it would have been like to be trapped there. I saw Blackwall and Solas fall. To have witnessed all of our troops die. Her companion...”

Glancing over at Cullen, she looked at his profile. Tried to imagine herself in Dhrua’s shoes. Having the people whom she trusted to have beside her looking at her with distrust. Liriel felt a flicker of anger on Dhrua’s behalf. Setting down her mug, she slipped off the edge and sunk ankle deep into the snow below. Then Liriel grabbed her mug.

“Liriel,” Cullen said, his brows knit together.

“No,” she said, shaking her head quickly. “I am mad at you. I’m mad at all of you. I can’t imagine… if that were me… that is me!” she hissed.

Cullen watched Liriel stomp through the snow away from him and back to the gates of Haven. The resemblance between the two women was uncanny, but her story was just too extraordinary. _What if Dhrua was a spy, come to infiltrate the Inquisition and destroy it from the inside?_

_And what if she truly was the Herald?_

Either way, Cullen had a feeling the coming days were going to change everything.


	5. Revelations

Dhrua waited patiently until she heard the quiet shuffle of Liriel getting up and dressing for the day. She forced herself to lay still for several minutes, giving time for Liriel to reach Solas where she would spend the next hour or so training. The timing was perfect. Dhrua quickly scrambled out of bed and grabbed a pair of breeches and a tunic out of the chest that held Liriel’s clothing. It was a startling realization how much weight she’d lost over the last few years. Dhrua had known, with the world in shambles and being on the run, proper meals were hard to come by. Putting on the clothes that had once fit her form perfectly, but now hung loose and made her feel worse.

Cinching her belt, she shoved her feet into her boots, quickly laced them and then grabbed her bag. She had a good twenty minutes, she thought before the sun would begin to creep over the horizon. Just a bit of food. A few things to get her by, and then she’d be gone before anyone was the wiser. Dhrua ducked into the kitchen, made sure it was empty, then hurried to the larder, lighting a candle on the way. She frowned as she peered around. There wasn’t much. Running her fingers along the shelves she knew that she couldn’t take anything. There were so many people in Haven. So many people to feed.

“I’ve survived this long,” she murmured quietly. With only the small dagger though, she wouldn’t be able to do much for catching and killing. Dhrua knew enough about traps to set up some to catch a rabbit or fish. But she’d need a knife.

So caught up in her thoughts of what she’d do, she didn’t hear the footsteps over the wooden floor. Didn’t heard the door open behind her. “What exactly are you doing?” Dhrua whirled around, her bag slipping from her fingers, it’s sparse contents spilling out in front of him.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Nothing, I was just-”

Cullen raised a brow and then crouched down, his hand going to the leather satchel.

“Don’t-” His fingers slid over the small dagger. Small, the handle and sheath ornately decorated. She watched with her heart lodged in her throat as Cullen picked it up, turned it over in his hand and then his other hand reached back, touched his hip. “Give it back,” her voice cracked. “Please, please, just give it back. I was leaving. I am leaving. I won’t take anything. Just give it back and I’ll go.”

Cullen had spotted Dhrua sneaking out of the cabin not long after he’d seen Liriel leaving to go have her usual training session with Solas. Curious, he’d followed. Liriel was certain the other woman was determined to leave. He didn’t know this woman though, did not trust her. So he followed. Heard her rustling around in the pantry, speaking quietly to herself. _Stealing?_

She didn’t seem to notice him until he spoke. Her bag hit the ground at his feet and he looked down at it. Dhrua had been in there long enough that she could have filled the bag, only, there was no food, save for a small bit of dried meat. Crouching down, he picked up the bag, saw the tonics that Liriel had already mentioned, a few bandages and a dagger.

A dagger he knew. But it couldn’t be, he thought as he picked it up, turned it over in his hand and reached back to where he knew it hung on his hip. It was still there. Yet, he held it in his hand. Dhrua was speaking, begging, pleading. “I’ll go,” she said and he shook his head as he stood up.

“No, I don’t think so,” he murmured. The dagger. It was his. Or, rather, it had belonged to his father, and Mia had sent it along to him when he’d been in Kirkwall. He always carried it.

He heard her make a quiet sound, anger, and distress and barely had a chance to react before she launched herself at him. “Give it back!” Dhrua shrieked.

Cullen caught her, easily overpowered her, spinning her around, her wrist clasped in one of his, he pinned it to the shelf over her head. “Where did you get this?” he asked, the dagger still in his other hand.

The door was yanked open and Cullen glanced over his shoulder, saw one of the kitchen women standing there, her eyes wide. “Oh, Commander, Herald, apologies, I didn’t-” she broke off, her cheeks nearly as red as her hair.

 _Maker’s breath_ , Cullen thought but gave her his best smile. “No, no, don’t apologize, we shouldn’t have been in here, give us just a moment and we’ll be out.”

Her eyes darted to Dhrua, her head was down, face turned away. “Of course,” she said, curtsied and then closed the door.

Cullen released her, swooped down and grabbed her belongings. “Come along,” he said, his voice sharp.

“Please, just give it back and I’ll be gone,” there were tears on her cheeks as she turned slowly to face him. “Please.”

“You’ll come with me,” Cullen said. “And you’ll either do it willingly, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder and carry you out of here and through Haven.”

“You can’t do this!” Dhrua hissed at him and for a moment, Cullen saw Liriel’s fire in her turquoise eyes.

Stepping closer, toe to toe, Cullen looked down at her. “Do you truly want to try my patients right now?” She backed down instantly. Her shoulders slumping, she pressed herself into the shelves behind her and Cullen scowled. That was why, Cullen thought, he found it impossible to believe this woman was Liriel. “Come on,” he snapped, turning around and shoving out of the pantry. It took a moment, but she followed.

Storming through Haven, Cullen was grateful it was early enough that few people were up. He led her to his tent, yanked back the flap and gestured for Dhrua to go inside. “Please,” she whispered again, lingering outside the canvas. “Just give it back – it’s all-” her breath hitched and he saw the tears in her eyes again. “I’ll leave.”

“Inside. Now.” She stared at him for a long moment, and Cullen waited, wondering if she’d argue, but she just ducked inside and stood in the center of the tent before turning to face him. “Stay,” he snarled, yanked the flap closed and turned. He’d intended to ask Rylen to keep watch but was grateful he didn’t have to search the other man out. “Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her leave.” Cullen pointed to the tent.

“What’s got you so riled up?” Rylen asked.

Cullen clenched his jaw. Impossible. It was impossible. “Just keep an eye on her,” he repeated before turning around and stalking off. He wanted to speak with Liriel. As he walked away, he pulled out the dagger again. Stared at it. Impossible. It was coincidence. It was just a similar dagger. Similar to one that his mother had made custom for his father as an anniversary gift. It was obvious that the dagger had taken a beating. Well used, but also, well cared for. Fingers curling around the handle, he slipped it free of the sheath and stared at the words engraved at the base of the blade.

_For my heart_

Along with his father’s initials.

“What is this I hear about us being caught doing Mythal knows what in the kitchen pantry?” Liriel had appeared in front of him, a slight smile on her face, her hands on her hips. A beat of silence. “What’s wrong?” Cullen held the blade and sheath out to her. “Okay?” she asked, peering down at it. “What is this?”

Cullen reached back, pulled its twin off his belt and showed it to her. “Cullen, I don’t understand.”

“Read the inscription,” she did, her brow furrowing. He held the other one up for her to read. Her brows only knitted tighter. “Dhrua had that one.” Her brow smoothed out and she looked up at him.

“Oh,” she whispered, inspecting the blades again. “Oh. It… it was you. You were the soldier who survived… the one...”

“I’ll go speak with Leliana. See if I can’t convince her.” He slid his dagger back into his belt, took the other one back from Liriel and slid it into his pocket. Cullen reached up, rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s in my tent, Rylen is standing guard.”

Cullen turned and walked away without another word, and Liriel stared after him for several long moments before heading for Cullen’s tent. Rylen stood there, just as Cullen had said. “Knight-Captain,” she said with a smile, then walked past him and swept into the tent. Dhrua sat on the ground, her knees drawn up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Angling her head back, Liriel nearly winced. Dhrua looked miserable. “I just want the dagger back. I’ll go after that. I just-”

“Cullen’s dagger?” Liriel asked, crouching down in front of her.

Dhrua looked away quickly. “It’s all I have left. Please. I just want it back.” The words came out as an angry hiss.

“Cullen went to go speak with Leliana, you aren’t going anywhere, except, maybe, to the baths?”

Dhrua’s lip curled. “I was ordered to stay, like a dog,” she bit out the words, then narrowed her eyes at the shadow on the tent flap. “And he was ordered to be sure I didn’t leave.”

“Well,” Liriel swept back the canvas flap and Rylen turned. “Knight-Captain, I imagine that our illustrious Commander did not properly introduce you to…” she paused for a moment, looking at the woman who shared her face. It would be for the best if as few people knew that truth as possible. “My sister, Dhrua.”

Rylen arched a brow and she scowled, momentarily distracted. Found herself waggling her own brows to try and achieve the same look, but she failed. “Sister?” he asked.

“Sister,” she repeated. “There was some… confusion. Dhrua, this is Commander Cullen’s second, Knight-Captain Rylen. One of the very few Templars who I like.” It was all pretense. Liriel suspected Rylen knew exactly who the woman who now stood in the center of Cullen’s tent was.

He inclined his head. “My lady,” he said.

“We’re going to the baths,” Liriel continued. He opened his mouth, shut it. “I wouldn’t want you to worry about disobeying Cullen’s orders, so you’re welcome to accompany us and stand guard outside the bathhouse.”

The hot water was bliss and agony as Dhrua sunk into the tub. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to take a proper bath. A flash of memory. Cullen sitting on the edge of a tub. Bubbles up to her chin. Pain lanced her heart and she tipped her head back, dunking it. It was a mess of tangles and mats. He had always helped her with it, after losing her hand.

Dhrua scrubbed at it, knew that there was no way she’d be able to untangle the mess. “I could help, if you’d like?” Liriel said, canting her head to the side a little, a comb in her hand.

“Cut it off,” Dhrua said without really thinking. Liriel opened her mouth to protest. She’d always loved her hair long. “It will be easier. Just cut it off.”

“But-”

“Please.” Finally, Liriel relented, asked Rylen to get them a pair of scissors and then began cutting. Dhrua closed her eyes against the burning damp. It didn’t matter. _It’s just hair_ , she thought as it fell away. It had been months since she’d been able to care for it properly. And seeing as how she still had every intention of fleeing the moment she got her dagger back, the shorter hair would be easier to care for.


	6. A Dagger Returned

_The hot water was bliss against Dhrua’s sore body. It had been such a long time since she’d been able to clean up with hot water, let alone submerge herself near completely. The door to the small room opened and she looked up, unable to see beyond the heavy curtain that divided the wooden tub from the rest of the room. But she knew who it was, knew those heavy footsteps._

_Cullen walked into the room, stopped and she waited, holding her breath. He was so angry with her, he’d barely spoken to her in the last two weeks. Her gaze shifted to the bandaged stump just below her elbow. He swore he’d never forgive her and she wondered if that just might be true. Did he hate her enough now that he’d leave her? Go try and find his family to see if they still lived? Her throat felt tight at the thought._

_Dhrua hoped that they were okay. Since it seemed that everyone else they had ever known was dead. Including her own clan, where they’d just come from after finding everyone slaughtered, the aravels nothing but ash. A tear rolled down her cheek and she ducked her head. It was so quiet she wondered if she’d just imagined Cullen coming into the room, but then he cleared his throat and she jerked her head up, saw him standing at the foot of the tub. “What?” she asked, dashing the tear away and angling her face away._

_He was silent for a long moment and she braced herself, waiting. He’d leave. Cullen would leave and she would be alone and she still hadn’t figured out what to do. “I thought,” he said quietly. “You might need some help with your hair.”_

_“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “I’ll have the lady of the house cut it off.” Without her other hand, she couldn’t braid it as she usually did and since that fateful day when she’d given Cullen no other choice, she’d been unable to do anything but let the waist length locks grow more and more tangled._

_“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cullen said and she watched him walk around the tub to kneel behind her. His fingertips grazed, barely there, over her shoulder and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She saw from the corner of her eye, his fingers curl around the handle of the ornate hairbrush that sat on the little table beside the tub. “I was angry… I am angry. Liriel,” her real name was barely a whisper. “I understand and I know you were right. The mark...” he began to brush out the tangles from her hair, his hands so gentle that tears rolled down her cheeks. “You made me hurt you. You went behind my back and you made sure-” he broke off, his hands stilling. Then she felt his lips against the crown of her head._

_“You kept arguing about it. We’d nearly been found too many times because of the mark already.”_

_“I know,” he sighed. It was war. They were in the middle of it, and the choices they both made every day were the hardest they’d ever made. They stayed silent as Cullen finished combing out her hair, then he washed it for her, dried it and twisted it in a braid. Once she was out of the tub and in a clean shift, Cullen changed the bandage on her arm, then touched her jaw. “Will you let me hold you tonight?”_

_She took his hand, squeezed it, and then led him to the bed. Cullen quickly removed his boots, then the shirt damp from helping Dhrua in the bath, and then they were stretched out together, his arms careful as he pulled her against him, held her._

Dhrua sat in the tavern in Haven, the smallest of smiles curving her lips. She sat in the corner, away from everyone, her back against the wall so she could watch. Earlier, after the bath and haircut, Liriel had taken her on a faux tour of Haven, introducing her around as her sister. It made her chest ache to see them all again. Alive. Hearty, healthy and happy. Sera sat chatting with Scout Harding as they shared a meal and Bull and the Chargers were there too, rowdy and laughing and catching more than a few eyes. Blackwall sat at another table, with Varric, Rylen, and a few of the troops playing cards.

They were all alive. Safe. Because Liriel hadn’t screwed everything up as she had. The door opened and Dhrua glanced toward it, saw Cullen standing there and that little smile she wore vanished. Liriel had asked but gave up realizing Dhrua wouldn’t explain anything. Wouldn’t tell her why she carried the dagger that meant so much to Cullen.

He crossed the room, weaving between tables and chairs as he made his way toward her and she held her breath. Waited. “I spoke with Leliana,” he said softly and she felt like her chest might cave in. “You’re welcome to stay in Haven as long as you like.” Dhrua lifted her head, startled. Then she watched as he reached into his pocket, retrieved the dagger and rested it on the table beside her hand. Her fingers flexed, but she resisted the urge to grab it. “There is a tent set up for you to have your own space. Would you tell me?”

Tears blurred her vision as she stared at the dagger. He’d cleaned it. All those months she’d been alone, unable to properly clean it, let alone herself. She couldn’t resist any longer, curled her fingers around the ornate sheath. “You’re not him,” Dhrua finally managed to say, keeping her voice low. This wasn’t the man who had nearly died to save her, who she’d stitched back together on a rocky river shore. He wasn’t the man who had held her, wept with her upon discovering what was left of Haven. This Cullen wasn’t the man who swore a quiet vow to her as he’d given her that little dagger.

“Dhrua,” a voice called and she looked up, saw Blackwall and the others at that table watching and she realized there were tears rolling down her cheeks. “Come join us,” he continued. “We’re about to start another hand.”

Tucking the dagger into her pocket, she wiped the tears away quickly and flashed Blackwall a smile. “Well,” she said, holding up her left arm. “I could use another one of those.” His cheeks went bright red and he fumbled through an apology as she stood up. “Thank you for returning the dagger, Commander,” she said with an incline of her head before walking over to sit down at the chair that someone had pulled up between Blackwall and Rylen.

 

Cullen didn’t miss the sidelong glances he received from those at the table where Dhrua had gone to join the card game. He wanted to know, was desperate to know. He’d spoken with Dorian, after Leliana, about the time travel. The possibility of it. The likelihood. Dangerous magic, Dorian had said, and Cullen had to agree. Dangerous indeed.

Liriel believed her. Dorian believed her. And after seeing that dagger, Cullen had no other choice but to believe her as well. _“You’re not him,”_ she’d said and the words cut deep, though Cullen couldn’t figure out why. He left the tavern without a backward glance, and he wanted to find Liriel. Speak with her again, find out if Dhrua had told her anything.

He found her, sitting on the stone wall, Solas leaning against it as they spoke quietly. He paused, unsure if he should interrupt, but Liriel smiled at him.

“Commander,” Solas said, inclining his head.

“Do you believe her?” Cullen asked without preamble.

Solas seemed to consider for a moment and then he nodded. “I do.”

Liriel held out a hand and unthinking, Cullen reached out to her, held her waist as she hopped down from the wall he had no idea how she’d managed to get atop in the first place. “Walk with me?” Liriel asked, angling her head up to look at Cullen.

“Of course,” he said, and they bid farewell to Solas before making their way down the paths through Haven and out the gate. “Did she tell you anything?”

“Did you return the dagger?” Liriel countered.

“I did. Yes.”

Liriel gave a little nod of her head. “Good, I’m glad and no. She wouldn’t tell me anything. Just that it didn’t matter, because he was dead.”

Cullen swallowed hard, reached up to rub a hand over his jaw. “Do you think she’ll stay?”

“I certainly hope so. She knows things, saw things. I think she can help, even if we managed to avoid that same path.” Liriel shook her head as they continued to walk, making a loop around the frozen lake. “I can’t imagine… I took her around, introducing her to everyone as my sister. We had to stop a few times because she could barely stop crying.” Liriel stopped, wrapped her arms around herself and tilted her head back and Cullen could see the tears shining in her own eyes. “They were all dead, Cullen. All of them. And that,” she looked back toward Haven, where it glowed gently as the sky began to darken. “That was gone. We can’t let that happen, Cullen.”

“We won’t,” he agreed and slid his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side she leaned in, rested her head against the hard metal of his chest plate. “The mages will be here soon. You’ll close the breach and everything will be fine.”

Liriel let out a quiet snort of laughter. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. It won’t be that easy. We still have to figure out who killed the Divine.”

“We will,” Cullen said, giving her a little squeeze. “And now, we have two Heralds. What could possibly go wrong?”

Angling her head back, she looked up at him and rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a little. At least one of them would let him help, would talk to him.


	7. A Perfect Memory

Dhrua spent the next few days keeping her head down and trying to avoid too much attention. But of course, she was being watched. By the ones who truly thought she was Liriel’s sister. By the ones who knew she wasn’t. The new tent was set up right next to Cullen’s. It might have made her laugh if it hadn’t made her feel all the more miserable.

Elgar’nan, he was so young. It was so jarring to see him sometimes. His beautiful face not marred by the horrific scar that had taken one eye. He would smile. She couldn’t remember the last time _her_ Cullen had actually smiled. But this Cullen, this younger version of the man she loved smiled often. Especially when Liriel was around.

It was ridiculous, she chastised mentally. To be jealous of herself. She ached with loneliness. Missed the feel of him at her side. Missed how he’d hold her. “I hate you,” she whispered quietly, tugging the dagger from her bag that she wouldn’t let out of her sight now. “I’m never going to forgive you for making me come here alone. I messed up, I don’t belong here.”

Which was why she had a plan. It wasn’t a great one, but it was a plan. She’d started to collect things. A kitchen knife that she’d surreptitiously lifted from Flissa in the tavern and Dhrua had only felt a little guilty. Needle and a spool of thread. A few scraps of cotton she could use as a bandage. Liriel had insisted on giving her a new pair of boots and several changes of clothes, though she would likely only take a shirt or two, along with the heavy cloak when she left.

One more day, maybe two. She’d been doing her best to sleep as often as possible, with the knowledge that alone it was so much harder to rest. Then she would leave, though Dhrua wasn’t entirely sure where she would go. The thought of going home to her clan made her heart ache with wanting. But she knew that she couldn’t. She couldn’t go anywhere where anyone might recognize her. Though, she was a far cry from Liriel these days. It didn’t surprise her that people were wary. Liriel was lean but soft, while Dhrua was gaunt.

She’d sat down and written a letter to Liriel, detailing things that the Elder One had done, just in case they might be helpful.

Dhrua knew she couldn’t linger, or else she might be tempted to stay. Blackwall had called for her to join them playing cards every night so far, and despite that she was terrible, she’d enjoyed sitting with them. Listening to them talk and joke. She’d forgotten what it was like to just _be_ around people.

A quiet chuckle had her sitting upright. She hurried across the small tent and wedged her fingers into the flap, tugging it open just a fraction. She’d been sitting in the dark, so no light would give her away.

Cullen stood with Liriel. His cloak wrapped around her shoulders. He reached up, fingers barely there against her jaw. Dhrua traced her own fingertips along her jaw, her hand nearly as calloused as his, she could almost imagine. Almost pretend that her Cullen was still with her. But when she closed her eyes, she saw the behemoth closing in on him. The blood. He’d sacrificed himself for her. For what? Slipping back over to the small bedroll, Dhrua curled up and stuffed the blanket against her mouth as the sobs wracked her frame.

 _I want to go back,_ she screamed in her mind. _Please, just let me go back!_ Dhrua knew, no amount of weeping would get her back to where she was supposed to be, and even if it did, she was still just as alone as she was here. The next night she decided would be the night. She couldn’t stay in Haven any longer.

Her timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The mages started to arrive en masse early that morning. So many more people, a distraction. She knew she’d be able to leave that night and no one would notice. Dhrua didn’t accompany them to the breach, but she stood, watching and waiting, breath held.

She watched as the green tear in the sky seemed to quiver, expand and then snap shut. Dhrua felt the air around her turn electric, like static against her skin before the deep booming sound reached her ears. And then, just like that, it was done. People around her began to cheer and celebrate. Liriel had done it.

A short time later the not-so-small troupe who had gone up to the sight began to return. In Cullen’s arms was Liriel, her head against his shoulder. “I’m fine,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sure I can walk now, really.”

“Right, I’ll put you down and you’ll immediately fall flat on your face like you did the last three times.”

“I didn’t actually fall,” she reminded him and he glanced at her.

“Because I caught you.”

“See, so why don’t we try for number four?”

“Why don’t you just rest and enjoy not having to walk?” he countered. Then they were out of earshot and Dhrua was tempted to slink off to her tent, but instead, she watched the others begin the celebrations. Drinking and dancing and laughing. Everyone was so happy. A perfect final memory, she decided. All this joy. So much better than what she’d had before. Of them, all dying.

The sun had begun to set and Dhrua finally decided it was time. She slipped off to her tent, grabbed her bag, made sure the note for Liriel was where it would easily be found. Then wrapping the cloak around her shoulders, she tugged the hood up and slipped out and began walking. At the small horse stable, she paused to rub her old horse's nose before continuing along the well-beaten path.

Dhrua still hadn’t decided where she was going to go. It might be easy to disappear in the Hinterlands, or maybe the Storm Coast. After a short while, she realized there was an echo in her footsteps. Imagining it? Or was she being followed? She made a sidestep as if avoiding a large rock or tree root. Whoever was behind her wasn’t trying to be quiet.

Whirling around, her hand pulling the dagger free she turned and saw Cullen a few yards away. Shoulders slumping a little she watched as he closed the distance. “What?” she bit out the word.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“No, just out for a stroll in the middle of the night.” Dhrua rolled her eyes and she felt a little childish for it. “Yes, I am leaving. I left a note for Liriel, including everything that the Elder One did to wreak havoc. But since obviously nothing is the same here, who is to say he’ll repeat those actions. Better safe than sorry.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Cullen told her and there was a gentleness to his tone that made her throat close him. She looked away. “Liriel has told you that repeatedly.”

Dhrua shook her head and thought that if she looked at him only from the corner of her eye, that she could imagine he was her Cullen. “I don’t belong here. There is nothing I can do to help and Liriel is the only one who believes me.”

Cullen moved a little closer and Dhrua took a step back. “That isn’t true. Solas and Dorian believe you. I-” he broke off and she saw him reach up and rub his hand over his mouth, his jaw and then over the back of his neck. “There is no way I can fathom that dagger isn’t real. So you have to be real. What you have said, impossible as it may sound, must be true.” He hesitated for a moment. “If you would just tell me-”

Dhrua’s head snapped back to look at him full on. “You’re not him,” she said and it hurt to say the words. But it was true. This man was not the man she’d fallen in love with. Not yet, and likely, he never would be the same. Creator’s willing.

“Where will you go?” he asked and frowned at the small pack she wore over her shoulder. “That isn’t much, did you at least take some food?”

“Haven barely has any food, to begin with, and now with all those extra mages arriving and still, others show up every day.” She turned away from him, started walking again. He wasn’t going to ask her to stay and Elgar’nan she hated that she wanted him to. _It isn’t him!_ She mentally shouted at herself. Too young, too innocent.

A hand curled around her bicep tugging her back around to face him. “Where are you going to go? You tried so hard to get back here, why are you so eager to leave?”

“I hate you,” she grit out between clenched teeth. “I-” her breath hitched and Dhrua jerked her arm out of his grip. “I tried to get back to where I was supposed to be. He made me do it alone! And look at how it turned out!” she was shouting at him now. “If you- if you care about her, even a little, don’t make her go alone. Don’t let her.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks now.

“Dhrua,” his voice was soft, gentle and it took her back to the better nights with him. Sated and warm. She turned on her heel again and quickened her pace. This time, he didn’t follow her.


	8. The Destruction of Haven

Dhrua made her way along the trail in the dark. The moon hung low and the trees were thick, casting shadows on everything around her. A noise further up the path caught her attention, she stilled, listened.

A man in Templar armor, with red lyrium glinting down the side of his face, took heavy steps toward her. Terror wrapped it’s fist around her throat and squeezed. _Cullen_. The Templar didn’t see her, she all but dove off the trail and into the shadows. Dhrua held her breath and waited as it shambled past her and toward Haven.

Haven. She remembered the destruction. Cullen’s arms tight around her as she wept. There had been no survivors.

Dhrua looked back up the path but didn’t see any other Templars yet. But there would be more. This one was likely little more than a scout. How far away were they? How much time did she have? Not wanting to use her magic in case others were close enough to see or sense it, Dhrua wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her dagger and in a flurry of movement she lunged. The blade plunged into the back of his neck. He staggered, fell and she went down with him, using her weight to push the blade deeper, to be sure he was dead.

Then, she ran. Full tilt back toward Haven. The clanging of the Chantry bells was loud and the front gate was closed. “Let me in!” she shouted at the sentry. “Red Templars are coming!” The two on the edge turned away and Dhrua held her breath. Would they leave her out there? She looked around, frantic. Her mind was screaming at her. _Cullen. Cullen, she had to find him, he had to get to safety._ If she had to watch him die again, she wouldn’t survive it. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the same man she’d known. Her heart screamed at her that he was still the man she loved.

It seemed like a lifetime later the gates cracked open. She shoved through and her gaze fixed on Cullen first. Worry lines marred his face. Then Liriel was beside him. Solas and Blackwall just a few feet away. Cassandra and Leliana too, she noted.

“Red Templars,” Dhrua said, breathless, looking back at Cullen. “Red Templars are marching on Haven.” There would be no outrunning the Templars and Cullen wouldn’t leave anyone behind. It gutted her knowing that he would die. They all would. _Again_. So focused on Cullen, she missed the movement.

Strong hands gripped her arms, yanked them behind her back and Leliana was in front of her, a blade to her throat, Cassandra at her back, holding her in an unyielding grip. “You led them here. Brought them right to us,” Leliana snarled.

“No, I-” the blade pressed tighter against her throat, Dhrua felt the slight sting as it cut, not deep, but enough that she felt the warm trickle of blood drip down her throat and into the collar of her cloak. Dhrua stared up at the woman, defiant.

“Convenient that you decided to leave just before the army marched on Haven,” this was from Cassandra, her voice an angry rasp behind her.

“Then why would I come back?” Dhrua snapped. She wanted to ram her head back, slam it into the other woman’s face, but if she did, she knew Leliana’s blade would slit her throat in an instant.

“That is enough!” Liriel appeared on one side of Leliana, Cullen on the other. Dhrua felt the hands on her arms release her and Cullen was pulling her away. She staggered slightly at the movement, but he kept her upright, held her to his chest. “We have more important things to worry about than if someone betrayed us!” Liriel was shouting as she turned to the crowd. “Get to the Chantry! If you can’t fight, go, now!”

Liriel turned back around, narrowed her eyes at Leliana and Cassandra. “Help get the people to the Chantry,” she ordered, her voice full of barely contained fury. “Blackwall, Solas, with me.” Then she stepped closer, touched the side of Dhrua’s face, angling her chin up to look at the cut. “It’s not too deep, both of you, get to the Chantry,” she said and suddenly Dhrua felt like she was the one far younger. The idea of someone else making the decisions was a heavy weight off her shoulders.

“The trebuchets,” Cullen said. “Slow them down.” Then he was leading her away from the gates and to the Chantry. It was chaos. People were terrified. There was screaming and crying and some were injured. “Go inside,” Cullen ordered, nudging her toward the wide-open doors.

She took a step forward, then stopped. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t just hide. She wasn’t the important one here. Dhrua knew if she died saving even one life, it would be worth it. Turning, she was ready to tell Cullen just that, only he had jogged down the stairs to help someone carry their burden.

Dhrua flexed her fingers, tugged at the magic she had used so rarely in the last few years, then she slipped off the stairs and into the shadows before Cullen turned around again. If he was safe, that was all that mattered.

 

Templars made it through the gates and Cullen gathered a small force to protect the Chantry and those inside. He tried to remain focused on the task at hand, but in the back of his mind, he fretted. Worried about Liriel and if she was hurt. Dhrua. He’d seen the blood on her hand as she had slipped through the gates.

A part of him had hoped, when the first calls of the force marching on Haven had been shouted, that Dhrua had hidden, that she’d run and gotten as far away as she could. She’d seen this already. The aftermath anyways. Haven destroyed and everyone slaughtered.

Only she’d come back, she had looked at him and he’d seen something in her gaze that had pulled at his heart. _You’re not him_ , she had told him. _If you- if you care about her, even a little, don’t make her go alone. Don’t let her._ The pain had been palpable and Cullen found himself wanting to ease her hurt. Soothe whatever pain the other him had caused her.

A dragon appeared in the sky and Cullen knew they were done for. There was no saving Haven or anyone within its walls. “Inside!” he ordered the soldiers that stood with him and he waited on the steps, anxious as the last few stragglers ran toward the doors. Then he spotted Liriel and her companions, sprinting up the path. “Hurry!” he shouted, to urge them on. The dragon breathed fire, rooftops sparked. They were going to die.

He caught Liriel’s arm as she stumbled up the steps, dragged her inside and the door slammed shut just behind them. Hands on her knees, she heaved breath after breath. “A dragon. A fucking _dragon_ ,” she gasped. She looked up at him, met his gaze and they both knew, there was no escaping.

“We can decide how it ends,” he said. “Turn the trebuchet.” Cullen would go out there, do it himself if he had to. "Bring down the mountain." He searched the crowd for Dhrua but didn’t see her.

Frowning he was only half-listening to the words being spoken. He heard Roderick, then felt a hand on his arm. Liriel’s face was angled up to look at him. “Get them to safety Cullen.”

It would be suicide. But the Inquisition needed her. _D_ _on’t make her go alone. Don’t let her._ He opened his mouth, snapped it shut. “Liriel-”

“Go on, we’ll be fine,” she said, gripping her staff as Solas and Blackwall stood at her back. “Go,” she jerked her chin and then turned and headed for the front door.

Cullen warred with himself, go after her, don’t let her go alone. But Dhrua, where was she? He still hadn’t seen her. Pushing through the crowd he went down the stairs to where the hidden door sat and opened it. He ordered his own troops through first to lead the way, and then he ushered the people through. It took a lifetime. The people were terrified.

“That’s the last of them,” Iron Bull said, as his Chargers filed through.

Cullen frowned, shook his head. “No, it can’t be.” Dhrua. She hadn’t been among them. He hadn’t seen her. “Dhrua, have you seen her?”

Bull frowned, then shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen her since she came through the gate to warn us.”

He thought of how he’d ordered her into the Chantry, then had turned away. Cullen never saw her go inside. He hadn’t seen her at all since then. Cursing quietly. “Go,” he ordered Iron Bull. “I’ll catch up,” he said because he had to find her. For Liriel, he thought, because he knew she would be upset. “Go,” he said again and then he turned and ran back up the stairs.

How long had she been alone? How long had it been since the man who had been her only companion died? The silence of the Chantry was strange and eerie. He listened but heard nothing. A few bodies lay against the walls. “Dhrua,” he shouted, but he knew she wasn’t inside the Chantry. She’d gone out into Haven.

Pushing open the door he saw bodies of Red Templars and pilgrims of Haven. “Dhrua!” he shouted again, heard movement, turned. A Red Templar snarled, steps unsteady as it closed in on Cullen. Drawing his sword, he cut down the Templar, sent up a silent prayer, and quickened his steps as he made his way down one of the paths. He could hear fighting outside the gate. Liriel and her companions. Could Dhrua have joined them? Possible. If he could just get up onto the lookout to see.

His steps faltered as he ran past Liriel’s cabin. Partially burned, the door hung broken from its hinges. Cullen ran for it, shoved the door with his shoulder and it crashed to the floor. Smoke was thick but the fires seemed to have petered out. Empty. He turned, was halfway out the door when he frowned and turned back.

A small pool of blood on the floor, with a streak of it beneath the bed. The blankets concealed anything or anyone that might be hiding there. Silently, Cullen crossed the room, he gripped the edge of the blanket and yanked it up, dropping down to peer into the darkness.

A body, wrapped in a familiar dark cloak. _Dhrua_. He cursed, grabbed hold of her and dragged her out. A gash on her forehead bled heavily and her arms were bound behind her back with rope. Ripping off his gloves, he felt for her pulse. Weak, but steady. “Dhrua, Dhrua wake up,” he said as he drew out his dagger, cut her free of her bindings that he realized had also been haphazardly tied to the bed.

He couldn’t think about that, not yet. Not until he got her to safety. She didn’t stir as he freed her. Then, Cullen lifted her into his arms, held her against him. Her head lolled, blood had matted her now short hair. He needed to get her to the Chantry, catch up with the others. He hurried out of the cabin. It would be so much easier to run if he tossed her over his shoulder, but he worried about her injuries, didn’t want to make anything worse. So Cullen clutched her to his chest and ran. He heard the dragon, glanced over his shoulder. Saw the trebuchet release.

His heart beat so fast in his chest as he ran for the doors, sprinted across the Chantry for the door that led to the secret passage. They were going to die. _Maker_ , that was all he thought. Didn’t know what to pray for. A quick death? A painless one? He ran down the stairs, felt the earth rumble around him. Dropping to his knees in the narrow pathway, he curled his body around Dhrua’s, pressed his face against the top of her head and held on.


	9. A Means to an End

“What do you mean Cullen isn’t here?” Liriel shook her head. Her ears were ringing and she still felt unsteady on her feet. A few broken ribs, she thought at the pain every time she drew in a deep breath. She had walked for, honestly, she didn’t know how long she’d walked, trying to find them. Liriel had seen torches, been so relieved, so exhausted, she’d collapsed and woken to find herself wrapped in blankets with familiar faces looking down over her.

Now she stood, hip braced against a wooden crate, the creators knew what it held. It was a miracle they had managed to get out of Haven with as much as they did. Tents and food. Basic supplies that meant they wouldn’t die quickly.

“Dhrua wasn’t with the others,” Iron Bull said and she looked at him. “He went after her.”

Liriel looked in the direction of Haven. It wasn’t there. Nothing was left. She had brought the mountain down on it and Cullen and Dhrua were buried somewhere beneath. “No,” she rasped out. “We have to go back, we have to look for them.”

“We cannot simply stay here,” Josephine said and Liriel heard the tightness, the pain. “These people won’t survive much longer out in the elements. The Commander-” her voice hitched. “He can take care of himself, and quite obviously, so can Dhrua.”

Liriel knew the woman was right. The people of Haven were scared and lost. They had to find shelter. So many were injured. When Solas suggested a potentially safe place, she agreed. “You must lead them,” he said, with sorrow in his own voice.

But she couldn’t just leave Cullen and Dhrua behind. “Rylen,” she called, finding him not far off. “I need you to come with us,” because without Cullen, he was the leader of the Inquisition’s soldiers, “but, put together a search party. They need to return to Haven, search for any survivors.” Search for Cullen, for Dhrua.

“Consider it done,” he said and then he was gone. Liriel looked back toward Haven again, tears burned her eyes and she wrapped her arms around her middle. She’d lead the people of Haven to the safety of Skyhold, and then, if they hadn’t caught up – because she couldn’t fathom any other option – they had to be alive, she’d go looking for them herself.

 

The shaking of the ground and deep rumbling seemed to last forever. Though the stone walls around them held, bits and pieces of the ceiling crumbled and fell. Cullen curled himself further over her limp body and finally, he prayed. He prayed that if they survived he’d be able to find the others and get Dhrua help.

When the world around them had gone silent and stayed that way for some time, Cullen finally lifted his head and looked. One lone torch sat crooked in the wall sconce illuminating the narrow passageway. It had stayed intact, as far as his gaze could see. He’d need to check either end, see if the Chantry still stood, and the end of the tunnel had been far enough out of the way of the avalanche.

Cullen looked down at Dhrua, blood still oozed from the gash on her head. He grit his teeth and cursed silently. He had nothing to bandage to wound. No way to clean it. Cullen didn’t want to leave her either, but he had to investigate, he had to find them a way out. Carefully he shifted her off his lap and onto the cold dirt floor. “I won’t be long,” he promised, tugging her cloak around her.

He found himself hesitating, gently pushing back a lock of blood-soaked hair from her face. “I’ll be right back,” Cullen told her, though he knew that she didn’t hear him. Then he forced himself up to his feet and over to where the torch hung. He pulled it from the sconce and casting a glance over his shoulder at Dhrua, he turned and walked back toward the stairs up to the Chantry. It didn’t take long to find what was left of the staircase. A collapsed mass of stones and wood and snow. Which meant that the Chantry was likely little more than rubble.

Cullen drew in a deep breath, turned and started back the way he’d come. Dhrua hadn’t stirred as he passed her and he found himself hesitating again. How badly was she injured? Would she even wake up? _Maker, please, let her wake up._ Cullen sighed and continued on his way. The hallway was long, narrow and dark and he found himself looking over his shoulder often, afraid that Dhrua would wake up and be afraid, or worse, that the ceiling would collapse and separate them. Finally, he found the end and simply stared at it. Snow and dirt. Stones from the collapsed frame.

The only way out meant digging. For now, though, he needed to take care of Dhrua. He hurried back to her, found her just as he’d left her. Dropping down beside her, Cullen cupped her face, her skin was cold as ice. Fear closed his throat as he lowered his head close to her lips and held his breath, the softest puff of warm air against his cheek. She was barely breathing. He needed to get her warm. There was plenty of broken wood to build a small fire.

Focused on his task, Cullen refused to let his mind wander. Refused to think of what he’d do if she died. Refused to think about how she had ended up hurt and tied up beneath Liriel’s bed. Had the fire been from the attack? Perhaps the dragon? Or had it been whoever hurt her? Cullen shook his head and gathered wood. He knelt and easily built up a small fire, then he looked at Dhrua. Still no movement.

Worry was a heavy rock in his belly. Frowning, he remembered their conversation before she left Haven. She had that small pack. Surely there wasn’t much in it, it seemed like months ago, but she’d had a healing tonic. He unfastened the buckle at her throat and drew her cloak away. A leather strap over her shoulder.

Cullen was careful as he pulled the pack free and in his haste, dumped the contents onto the dirt floor beside his knee. A ball of string. A small strip of leather rolled up and tied shut. His brow furrowed, curious. But there it was. A small vial. A healing tonic. But she had to wake up to drink it. Cursing quietly, he tucked everything else, save for the roll of cotton, back into her bag, and then stripped out of his armor. Cullen jogged down the hallway, wrapped a handful of snow up in a bit of the cloth and hurried back. Then he sat back down carefully drew her into his arms and wrapped her cloak around her.

The snow had melted a bit and he used the now wet bandage to dab at the gash. Likely she’d need stitches, even with the tonic. He tried staying calm. Cullen counted the passing seconds, he told himself that it wouldn’t be long before Dhrua woke, she would drink the tonic and then together they would figure a way out. “And someone trying to kill you was all just a misunderstanding,” he muttered fingering a lock of silver in her dark brown hair.

Years, she’d said she’d been in that future. Years that she had survived and endured. Only to find her way back to the wrong Haven and have someone who she should have been able to trust try to kill her.

The longer he sat, the colder he began to feel, despite the fire that burned just a foot away. His fingers felt like ice, but the thick leather gloves were now lost to him. Looking down at Dhrua he was glad to see the wound had stopped bleeding so profusely. _What if that is because she is dying?_ The thought made it hard to breathe.

Cullen felt her throat, her skin cold against his own. “No,” it was a rasp. Cullen lifted her, pressed his ear to her lips and his own heart was a frantic tattoo in his chest, so loud he nearly didn’t hear the ragged sound of her breath. “Forgive me,” he said, laying her out again. He had to warm her up or she would die, of that Cullen was certain.

Quick methodical movements had her nearly naked in moments. His hands hesitated just an instant. Her ribs were stark against her skin, a thin scar over her heart. “Oh, Dhrua,” he breathed and Cullen hoped that perhaps one day she would trust him enough to share what she had endured. _“_ _I hate you,”_ the memory of her raspy voice filled his head and he smiled a little sadly. “Or maybe not.”

Cullen stripped down to his smalls, left Dhrua in hers as well and hoped she would understand and forgive him. Then he stretched out over her, his ear pressed to her chest where he could hear the sluggish beat of her heart. Her cloak bundled around them, Cullen returned to his silent prayers.


End file.
